“Not again,” you said this to ring a bell in Badejo’s head when he began pulling his trouser. This day, you were sure he would attack but like before you did not know how. Within you, you wished you had magical powers to tell his balls to fall off. Unfortunately, you are not from the clan of Babalawos neither are you are from the clan of the Edo Dibias. Just as you expected, Badejo came rushing towards you shouting, “My friend remove those coverings. Let me see those mangoes on your chest.”
As usual, you could not weep. All you did was to think of a better plan as you pulled your clothing; a plan to fall those balls. Over the years, you have been continually wrecked by Badejo, your father. You wished it were not the way things were, especially after your mother died. Every day, since you marked thirteenth birthday, Badejo mounted you like a bowl of Eba and Egusi soup. The day you switched to resistance, Badejo whipped you like the child that you are. After that day, you poured hot ororo on his face with him spending three months on the hospital bed as you laboured for his recovery. You vowed to pay back as you wished he had become blind that instant.
To you, all hopes of recovery had been dashed by emotional and psychological trauma in fixed in you by his act. Consequently, you wished you had another plan to tear him apart but of course, no plan was foreseen. Now this very day, after following your only confidant’s advice, Obebo, the previous day; you decided to do something, something greater than the previous incident. To kill not just his face but those balls. You decided to kill him although shame might become of you. “Yes! That is it, psychological and emotional death,” you said.
Instantly, you went to Addide to buy the 58mps digital camera and fixed it on your dresser, setting it perfectly to form a makeup. As expected, that should become of you, being eighteen years old in four days. You said, “This will be my birthday gift.”
Just as he came groaning and looking at you with his fat and sweaty body, you struggled to make the video a perfect blockbuster to movie lovers and a shock to critics and the law by letting him tear your singlet as you reacted in outermost shock. As he penetrated, you said, “Daddy, you do not have to do this to me, its been five years.” He slapped your face, you smiled. To emphasize even more pain that you were used to, you kept screaming.
And in thirty minutes, it ended. This resolution to your long conflict that led to a climax has come to realization. And you thought to yourself, at last, I killed him again…what a perfect birthday gift.
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